


A Little Room To Breathe

by Kyubey_Kotone



Series: VENTilation [2]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Depressing, Gen, He just wants to be happy, Implied/Referenced Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jon doesn't think he's a good friend, Jon's POV, More of Jon just being utterly miserable, References to Depression, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Triggers, but fucking anxiety, excuse my language, please don't read if this will trigger you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyubey_Kotone/pseuds/Kyubey_Kotone
Summary: Jon's still depressed, and just can't get past his emotions and anxiety.//This is the continuation of VENTilation! So, if you liked the first part, you might like this one too.





	A Little Room To Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Still slight vent. But this is the second part to VENTilation! You don't have to read the first part to get what's happening, but it's kind of recommended.

 

His eyes opened, the thick layer of crust blurring his sight as he attempted to recall the events of last night. Oh, yea. It was nothing more than just the same nightly routine. He sighed, rolling over onto his side, his hand firmly gripping his pillow in front of his face. It was always the same; him, sobbing in his room, hoping someone would notice all the pain he’s in, and then feeling guilt for the way he felt... Somedays he really wished he could get a change of atmosphere, experience something more than just the empty void he felt within his chest. Something more than the heavy, cumbersome weight of his body, of this depression. Was he really such a horrible person for feeling sad?

 

‘ _Other people have it worse than you!_ ’

‘ ** _They do._** ’

 

‘ _You’re such a spoiled selfish brat!_ ’

‘ ** _I am._** ’

 

‘ _What did I do to make you become so fucked up?_ ’

‘ ** _Nothing, it’s just me._** ’

  
‘ _Why are you so fucked up?_ ’

‘ ** _I don’t know._** ’

 

He really was horrible, wasn’t he? Jon rolled over onto his back before hissing in pain as a certain sting began to radiate from his arm, making it’s way up his skin. The male sat up, feeling almost weightless as his head began to spin. He didn’t want to be awake, but even with the heaviness of his eyelids, he’d never manage to fall back asleep. It was almost as if he never slept anymore. That was one of the joys of insomnia… He began to roll up his sleeves, his eyes scanning over his arms, examining all the red lines that littered his skin. Why did he do this… What was really the point? Did he just want attention, like Eduardo said? No, no… If he wanted attention, someone would’ve noticed by now. Someone would know. But no one ever did. No one cared.

 

‘ _I feel like I could just put a blow up dummy in your place and have the same conversation! You just sit there, off in your own little world, ignoring everything but your damn music. You’re like a ghost. You’re invisible. No wonder no one ever hears you and you’re always ignored. You’re a fucking ghost child._ ’

 

He could feel the tears begin to swell in his eyes, as his mind kept repetitiously replaying the awful things Eduardo said back into his mind, scratching at the wall he built inside his head, wishing he could forget it all.

 

When will he ever just be enough? He felt as if his emotions had been bent past their limits. He scrunched his face, hugging himself, his body shaking as he tried not to cry more. He didn’t need to start the day with a panic attack, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing, forcing him to relive the memories he tried so hard to forget. Why was he not enough? Why couldn’t he ever be enough?! Why did it have to be like this? He was always stuck between being himself or being invisible. If he was open about his feelings, he wouldn’t get what everyone else got. He wouldn’t get a warm hug, and an accepting smile, being told everything was alright. No, they’d roll their eyes at him, and tell him to get over it or get told he was fucked up. What kind of a person tells someone they’re fucked up because they’re crying?! Because they are human and have feelings?!

 

It didn’t help if he was quiet either. He’d still get yelled at. Why couldn’t there be a happy medium?  He dug his nails into his skin, feeling a seething burn begin to spread from the ends of his fingernails, red and purple hues beginning to form as he attempted at slowing his breathing, calming himself down. ‘ _Don’t do it. Just calm down._ ’ His thoughts repeated, like a broken record. There was no need for that now.

 

He felt his composure soften a bit, his body shaking lightly as a tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. H-He was stronger than this… Or, so he liked to believe. He was just tired of being looked at like a selfish bratty child who just didn’t get their way. It just wasn’t fair. He’d watched all these movies, with graphic depictions of acceptance and comfort, yet he couldn’t get that. Although, sometimes he almost felt as if he didn’t deserve it… He _was_ selfish. He _was_ stupid. Eduardo and Mark were right. When were they not? They always had to prove themselves to him, about how they’re both smarter than him; how they’re so much better than him. And it didn’t help that they would actually build him up sometimes, making him believe he was actually worth more than just the ghost they lead him to believe he is. They built him up, just to break him down later.

 

But he couldn’t even bring it in himself to open up! He just wanted to actually be himself and say how he was actually feeling without all the complications of fear and anxiety! Without the fear of being looked at the wrong way or someone not accepting him! He just… Didn’t want to be awake.

 

Jon swung his legs over the ledge of the bed, standing himself up as he picked up his phone, checking the time. As his eyes glazed over the lit up screen, he noticed two missed messages.

 

_“I feel like we never get to talk anymore, why can’t we hangout sometime?”_

_“Ugh, I miss you so much. Please respond soon. I miss our chats ;-;”_

The blue shirted male contemplated responding, as an onslaught of thoughts flew through his mind, beginning to run ramped with all different emotions, and things he could say. But what _could_ he say? Sorry I haven’t responded in weeks, I just don’t feel like talking? What kind of a friend was he if he never replied? He never felt like talking. Talking lead to questions, like how have you been, what’s been up, and a whole bunch of other stressful questions that he just couldn’t bring himself to answer. He exited out of that contact, looking over the list of other messages that had been previously sent, almost all of them left with him being the last text. No one else had responded. No one else cared.

 

‘ _If people wanna talk to you, they’d talk to you. Conversations aren’t onesided. They’d actually put in some effort and message first. When people don’t respond, it’s because they don’t care. They don’t like you.’_ Eduardo's voice rang in his ears. _  
_

How could he honestly believe that this person was different? Surely, they didn’t actually miss him, they were just bored of all their other friends… He didn’t matter… They’re just being kind. If he were to actually talk with them, he’d just become a burden to them. Who’d ever actually wanna talk with him?? He was worthless, useless… They were obviously just putting up with him because they feel bad for him.

 

Jon set down his phone and lazily made his way across his room quietly, not wanting anyone to know he was awake yet, as he attempted to rummage through the mess he called his room, searching for a jacket to put on, to hide his arms. They burned at the touch of fabric, just reminding him of the guilt he should feel for being himself.

 


End file.
